


Protection Lost

by GlyphArchive



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Canon Compliant, Gen, Injury Recovery, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlyphArchive/pseuds/GlyphArchive
Summary: Karna removes his natural armor and gifts it to Indra. Nakula and Sahadeva provide treatment for the aftermath.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Protection Lost

“I will _not_ leave.” Vasusena delivers the statement with enough tempered restraint that Nakula has no choice but to acknowledge him as being extraordinarily cognizant; despite the fact that the Angaraj’s voice is currently a hoarse ruin of its former strength. Vasusena’s stare bores into him and were it a blade he might well have been cut to pieces right then and there. “You cannot expect that I will when this war is still in motion.”

Sahadeva shares his look over the Angaraj’s shoulder and they silently acknowledge what the other is thinking. Then they are moving – Sahadeva for the medicines and Nakula for their patient. Vasusena permits the hand on his shoulder and for that Nakula can be grateful; there is indeed a war to be fought and each of them must conserve their strength if they mean to live.

Whether the Angaraj will live or not remains to be seen, even if he is allowed to fight. He’s has lost a considerable amount of blood – a _ridiculous_ amount, Nakula knows, for one who still intends to fight as though they were whole – and he can treat the wounds themselves but replenishing what has already been lost is beyond his and his brother’s talents.

That, unfortunately, is something only the Ashvins themselves might know; if it can even be done by gods.

“The decision has already been made, Angaraj.” Nakula bids him to turn and he does, stiffly at first; shoulders twitching reflexively when Nakula lifts Vasusena’s hair to inspect just how deep the ragged gap of flesh around his neck truly goes. It seems a miracle that he can stand at all, let alone do so and be coherent. Someone has already tried to tend his ruined flesh but the armor cut from his body must have been several layers deep because Nakula can see beyond the beginning fibrous skein of muscle. In some places, he notes, bone is nearly visible.

Nakula swallows back the taste of bile and begins unraveling the sodden bandages, wincing at the sight of the other’s back. Of Vasusena’s spine, openly visible, and he does not need to look to know that Sahadeva has tightened his own jaw to prepare himself for the rest.

“Drink this.” His brother’s voice is light enough to be easily mistaken for carefree. He holds a wooden cup to Vasusena’s mouth, the liquid inside odorless and a pale amber to the eye. “It will help with the pain.”

“Wouldn’t you need me awake?” Vasusena muses and for a moment Nakula thinks he will fight them about this, as he has already done when the first protests over his condition had been voiced. Even after Duryodhana had added his urging for Vasusena to be healed it had taken no small amount of effort to draw him from the lines of battle.

“Not necessarily.” Sahadeva answers patiently. “I cannot recommend it, as a physician. For us to be able to work, and for you to recover, having something to dull your pain would be necessary. This won’t put you to sleep, however. Not on its own.”

Nakula hesitates at the line of Vasusena’s dhoti partly because of propriety, partly out of dread for what he might see underneath blood-spattered cloth. He’d not thought to question how far the Angaraj’s armor extended over his body; whether it were simply limited to her upper torso and arms or if Suryadev had seen fit to provide protection for her lower half as well, where it was considered unmannerly for a _kshatriya_ to strike in war.

“…as you say.” Vasusena relents and drinks, much to Nakula’s own private relief. He swallows well enough even with the damage to his throat, though he winces. Still, it is more than what Nakula had expected.

“Angaraj.” Nakula prompts softly, voice grave. “In order to treat you properly I will need you to shed your dhoti. With your permission, I will proceed.”

“As you must.” His answer is wooden, firmly without any feeling. Vasusena’s hands move of their own accord and untie the first knot about his waist, starting to unravel the stained material. Nakula helps, Sahadeva guiding the rest of the cloth away from the Angaraj’s legs. Nakula feels himself pale at the sight and knows it must be mirrored on his brother’s face.

The wounds have been cleaned, yes; but there is no disguising the puffy irritation clinging to the frayed bits of flesh, how freely the tears still bleed, even down to the tops of his feet.

Vasusena levels a blank stare at them both as they straighten, each of them wordless now that the whole of his condition is visible to their eyes.

“Angaraj – “ Nakula stops himself there, throat tight.

“You cannot fight like this.” Sahadeva finishes for him, opting for the tone of finality which on occasion has even stopped Bhima in his tracks.

“Do your work.” Vasusena replies, making no move to cover himself. “I realize the chance of infection is high; but this is a war and if I die, then so be it.”

There will be no arguing with him, Nakula knows; just as Sahadeva surely does.

“Very well.” Sahadeva relents, reaching for another bottle. Nakula recognizes it and says nothing, discarding Vasusena’s ruined dhoti for the moment. “This is likely to be unpleasant,” he warns, lifting one of Vasusena’s arms with care. “But we shall do our best.”


End file.
